The Best Laid Plans
by InkandGrit
Summary: It's time Renesmee heard her uncle Jasper's story. The whole story, in his own words. Rated for safety. I own nothing; don't sue.
1. Unexpected Questions

After the Volturi visited us, intent on exterminating my niece for a crime that had not been committed, it was no wonder that my entire family longed for a break. While we didn't hurry the guests that lingered after our collective celebrations, I could sense the pressure of entertaining wearing on everyone. For a time, we needed to be alone, to reevaluate and see to the health of the whole, our coven, our family. Alice was still miffed by Bella's chastisment, despite the offered apologies by both parties, so I was mildly surprised when we joined the family in the living room one evening following Nahuel and Huilen's departure. I didn't ask questions, of course, simply trusting my mate. She squeezed my hand, offering me a worried look before flitting off to the couch with her sketchbook in hand. I had no chance to wonder, drawn into a poker game by Emmett.

Though we were spending time together, each of us was also alone, pursuing our own interests. While Emmett and I gambled away outlandish amounts of money for no reason but fun, Carlisle sat in front of the television, a notebook on his lap. Our father was giving the cooking channel his full attention, looking very much like the young knowledge-hungry medical student he had once been. Despite the numerous talents he held, cooking had always been just out of reach of our father's particular skill set. If the task was more complex than chopping or stirring, he was left at loose ends. Now, it seemed, he was attempting to change that fact. I felt a brief wave of sympathy for my niece as Rose brushed her hair. As the only member of the family whose body could process human food, she would have to serve as her grandfather's guinea pig until a member of either pack became avaliable.

Edward's piano playing drifted in from the next room, a counter note to the voices of the humans on the television. My brother was working on a new composition, something about it lighting flashes of irritation in his otherwise candid mood. Esme smiled as she sketched; she had missed his playing during those stressful weeks Alice and I had been away. Now, our mother sat next to my wife, their arms touching as they worked, both content. Bella sat on Alice's other side, immersed in her copy of Pride and Prejudice for what had to be the millionth time. The peace was unexpectedly broken after half an hour, Renesmee's voice clear and innocent.

"Why does Uncle Jasper have so many scars?"

I froze. Nobody was breathing except for my niece, watching me from across the room. They were all watching me, waiting. All but my wife, of course. Had this been the reason for her expression earlier? Was this why she had insisted we join the rest of the family? Esme's eyes were full of sorrow as Alice's voice prevented me from feeling anger at the pity of my family, a gut rection I still had not managed to fully shake from my time with Maria.

"Well, Renesmee, Uncle Jasper got his scars because he was very brave, a survivor, when he was a newborn vampire."

Her response had me growling, a quick rasp of objection that brought Emmett's big hand down on my shoulder. I forced myself to relax before meeting my brother's wary gaze. "I'm fine." Alice rose, moving slowly as she crossed the room to me. When Emmett's hand still didn't move, I finally wrenched free. As if I might bring any harm to my Alice. My wife's eyes blazed, cautioning our brother I would imagine, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of her hand in mine, her small body settling into my lap, her free hand on my chest, directly above my silent heart. She rubbed there, small circles, in an effort to calm me. I kissed her temple before turning to Renesmee.

"There was...quite a bit more to it than that, Renesmee." I inhaled slowly, testing my own mood. "Would you like to hear it?"

The little girl danced over to me, moving just as gracefully as my wife, her brown eyes serious. "Will it bother you," she asked, pressing her hand to my cheek. She was remembering the stillness that lingered in the room, the expression on my face, the look in my eyes. I kissed the heel of her hand, nuzzling her palm.

"It won't bother me quite as much as you not knowing would," I responded honestly. I glanced toward my brother; Edward stood in the entryway, half his body still in the hall that separated living room and music room. His gaze was hard, probing; I knew he was reading my thoughts and so, silently, pled my case. After a few minutes, during which I worked to spread a wave of calm through the room, Edward nodded once, the defensive look slipping from his gaze.

Worry, fear, concern. I smothered their emotions as quickly as I could, before they pulled me under. Alice purred, her body flush against mine, her lips brushing against my throat. From her, there was nothing but confidence, love, and calm. As always, she was my rock. "Why don't we go outside, Nessie? You can show your uncle how far you can jump over the river."

As Alice got to her feet, I followed, kissing her hand. Truly, I couldn't show enough thanks to her as Renesmee danced ahead of us, overjoyed at the prospect of being able to show off. Leaving our family's stressed gazes, my thoughts moved to the task ahead. It was time to tell Renesmee my story.

A/N: Sorry to all my previous subscribers for pulling and re-posting, but I needed to get a fresh perspective for Ch. 2 Enjoy! 


	2. A Moment of Cowardice

Renesmee sailed high over the river, her landing unseen but easily heard by Alice and I. Something groaned lightly, the tree she'd landed on, no doubt. After a few seconds, she flew back through the air toward us, her auburn hair flying behind her before she landed in front of me. Nessie's smile shone with enthusiasm as she jumped again, not bothering to get a running start. I was careful to smile proudly each time, though I was only tracking her with the lesser part of my focus.

"Renesmee, that's enough. We didn't come out here just for jumping practice, you know," Alice chided gently, too soon. I sighed as our neice skipped back into view, letting her aunt tisk and fuss over her fly-away hair. Once that was done, Renesmee's irritation and impatience growing with each second Alice was tending to her, both of them turned to me. In the space of a blink, Alice was at my side, purring low, while Renesmee crawled into my lap.

Again, she touched my face, sending more images to me. She was worrying again, not wanting to upset me. I worked fast, wrapping Nessie in feelings of safety and love as I inhaled. The closest scent was Nessie, solid in my arms as her fingers slid down to trace the scars on my neck. Almost as close was the scent of my Alice, her head on my shoulder. I inhaled again, closing my eyes as I tried to decide where to begin. This inhale carried scents nearly two hundred years dead, the scents of my home, of Texas.

"Levi. The baby's name was Levi, after you." I didn't respond as my brother, Archer, scowled at our father's pronouncement. "They both died. LeighAnne's dead." Lucas Whitlock, the man responsible for bringing me into this world, barely shed a tear as he shared the news of his eldest daughter's death. At the table, Cassidy and Christopher wept into our mother's apron. I felt the tears coming without my permission and tried to wipe them away. My father saw the move and grabbed my collar, pulling me from the room. His meaty hand was a solid weight, nails digging into my shoulder.

"We have to move on now, Jasper." Lucas shook me, as if trying to make me see sense. "You have failed to shoulder your responsibilities since your sister was wed. Now, she won't be coming back so -"

"I'm doing the best I can," I countered, interrupting him. Another mistake, I knew, but this was hardly the time to play the obedient son. My head was still spinning with the news. LeighAnne, my older sister, my childhood playmate and partner in crime, was gone. I'd never seen her blue eyes sparkle with laughter again. We would never again stand shoulder to shoulder, covering for one another or one of our family's slaves to keep peace in the household. How could this be happening?

"Go out with your brother." Lucas turned on his heel and marched back to the dining room without another word. When I heard Archer groan, I knew he'd been informed of his company for the evening. Clearly, he was thrilled.

"The feeling's mutual, you know," I reminded him that night. We were walking side by side in the glow of the street lamps, not looking at one another, hardly speaking prior to my statement. Archer's head whipped towards me, his brown eyes meeting mine. There was confusion in my younger brother's face, though I could tell he was trying to hide it.

"What the hell are you talking about, Jas?" He removed his hat long enough to run one hand through his hair. I shrugged, crossing my arms and leaning against one of the lamps. Neither of us was looking at the other; a night like this one was rare and the conversation wasn't helping. When Archer caught my eye again, I swallowed and tried to find my voice.

"I know you don't want me here, Arch. After the news about LeighAnne, I figured you'd be spending your night drinking away your troubles and laying in the arms of any woman willing to take your money." My brother's nightly activities were not unknown, but it wasn't proper to speak of them. For our social status, those behaviors were politely ignored as if they didn't exist. Rather than deny my words or show any shock, Archer shrugged.

"Same as every other night, Jas. I actually thought we could do something else. I know how you feel about that kind of behavior. You don't like any of it."

I looked up, examining my younger brother in the flickering light from the lamp. We had the same color eyes, inherited from our father, and the same sharp cheekbones from our mother. Despite these similarities, Archer had always had a thinner look about him, a wild streak nobody could stomp out. His words had shocked me - I'd had no idea that Archer paid enough attention to know my feelings towards Houston's red light district. Ever since our father had brought me to this place, ensuring in his own twisted way that I 'become a man,' I'd avoided the place unless the bottle took me there. Even that was rare. I wasn't a heavy drinker. Gambling was my sole vice while Archer sampled everything life set before him, good and bad.

Ignoring my brother's generosity, I shook my head. It was a move of bewilderment rather than refusal. "I didn't know you paid that much attention to me," I admitted. "You seem too occupied with besmirching the Whitlock name and giving everyone fits." I smirked. "You haven't seen what I've seen, you know. Marlee had a wailing fit the last time she heard you'd gambled away your clothes."

"That only happened once," Archer objected, though he was smiling too. "Did she really have a fit?"

"Yes. Screamed so loud that Josiah dropped a plate in the kitchen." Josiah managed the kitchen, a job he'd held since before I was born despite the shakiness developing in his once sure hands. "He was fine," I added before my brother could ask. Neither of us quite shared our father's outlook on the handful of slaves we owned, the people who had helped raise us. It was, in my opinion, the only thing we shared.

"What do you think will change now?" Archer asked the question tenatively; I could hear the underlying fear, the unspoken trust he had in me. He was asking me to step into my role as his big brother, to reassure him with some knowledge gained before he'd been born. He expected me to know. That expectation was an unexpected weight on my shoulders.

"I don't know." I couldn't lie to him, not when we seemed to be getting along for the first time in what felt like forever. "I think I might leave." The words came out before I could consider them, the idea bursting into instantaneous bloom from seeds I hadn't remembered planting. "They're taking volunteers for the Confederate Army. I'm tall enough to get away with it, don't you think?"

"Jasper, you..." Archer swallowed as if the words were stuck in his throat. "You can't leave. We've lost LeighAnne. We can't lose you too."

"You won't lose me, Archer," I reassured absently. Already, I knew the decision had been made, my subconscious working on its own in the hours since we'd received the news, possibly even working for weeks before that. This even had simply tipped the scales.

"Well, if you're sure." My brother's voice still sounded flat.

"Come on, Arch. You're with a soldier now. Let's see that I get a good send-off." I nodded to the nearest building, its windows acting as fiery beacons, the light multi-hued behind thin scarves and veils. As I started walking, Archer grabbed my sleeve.

"Jasper, what are you saying?" He was pleading with me again. It was too much, too much to comfort and reassure him when I was empty and hurting as much as the rest of the family was. I couldn't carry my brother's hurt and my own. I had to convince him.

"Father will love it. You know he's always talking about state's rights and how the Confederacy is doing the right thing. The Union is trying to break us, according to him. Besides, I need to get out of here. I need to see something other than Houston, do something more than become a farmer or rancher. Come on, Archer, you've got to see some sense in this choice." I gripped his arm.

"Jasper, you're scaring me... Listen to yourself. This isn't you."

"Sure it is, Arch. I've got to do this."

"Well...alright. Let's go celebrate then." Archer still seemed unsure. I was ashamed because I couldn't tell him the whole truth. Every reason I'd given was true, of course. We'd both sat through Lucas' lectures about the political upheaval around us. However, no matter how much truth there was in those reasons, it wasn't my motivation. I had to get out because I couldn't grieve. I couldn't carry the weight of my family's grief. I couldn't comfort Archer, Christopher, or Cassidy.

I enlisted because I was running from my pain, because I couldn't face that loss. Joining the Confederate Army was the first cowardly thing I did in my life. 


	3. A Soldier At Last

"Uncle Jasper-"

"Renesmee, let your uncle talk." I felt and didn't feel as Alice nuzzled me, kissing my neck. More anxiety from Nessie. I ignored them both; though the memories I'd just unearthed were difficult to relive, there was worse to come. All I could do was keep talking before Renesmee had a chance to re-hash an argument Alice and I had had at least two dozen times. My wife didn't believe I'd acted in cowardice when I'd run from my family, but self-preservation. To me, they were often one in the same.

I remember standing in front of the recruiter, a Captain my father's age who happened to own the most acerage along the Texas coast. I'd bet, but didn't dare say aloud, that his rank as Captain was a reflection of his land's poor crop output. How little I knew then... I was standing straight as I could, trying not to be obvious as I tried using my height to my advantage. The Captain had been eyeballing me for only minutes, but it seemed like hours. As I tried not to fidget, I kept repeating the same mantra in my mind. Please, just let me enlist.

"How old are ya?" The Captain's fingers slid down until one thumb hitched into his belt, blue eyes still on me.

"Just turned twenty, sir." I leaned forward slightly, putting more of my weight on my toes. I was only seventeen and I couldn't afford to be sent back home now.

"Got your own horse, I see."

"Yes, sir," I confirmed. I'd had to push Cassidy and Christopher off so I could get on the horse this morning. Archer had taken them, let them cry on his shoulders now that mine were no longer avaliable. Before I'd left, I'd nodded to my brother. Maybe he would make a better elder brother than I had. Maybe.

"How good a rider are you? And how good a shot?" Before I could pull completely free of my memories or answer the first question, I felt the weight of a rifle in my hand.

"Let's find out." Shouldering the weapon, I smiled and turned back to my mount. I thought the Captain would stop me, but he just watched as I got into the saddle, checked the gun, loaded it, and grabbed the reins. "Anything particular you want me to shoot at?"

"Figure it out, boy."

I needed no further encouragement, letting out a whoop as the horse started to canter, then gallop under me. The wind whipped through my hair as I squinted into the sun, looking for a likely target. I brought the stock to my shoulder, checking my grip as my other hand handled the reins. I pulled my mount to the left and fired as my body turned. The lead bullet flew, punching a neat hole through a wooden fence post. Blinking, trying to get the ringing in my ears to stop, I nudged my mount back to the Captain at a canter.

"Impressive. Your horse didn't startle."

"No, sir," I responded, swinging my leg back over the steed to vacate the saddle.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Jasper Whitlock, sir." He was circling me now. Again, I tried not to fidget, feeling very like a dying animal being eyeballed by a hungry buzzard.

"I know your family, Whitlock. Your father's a decent man." I tried to keep the frown off my face, but the Captain's dark chuckle told me he probably saw it. He stopped circling me and pulled a soft leather pouch from his pocket. Calloused fingers reached in to retreive a plug of chewing tobacco, his teeth expertly tearing a small chunk free. Jaws working around the chew, he nodded to himself. "I believe you'll fit in fine, Whitlock. You're a decent rider. I'll recommend the calvary."

After a month of training, I got a better idea of exactly what the Confederacy was working with. Some of the soldiers, myself included, had come from well off families. They were gentlemen, most of whom owned their own horses or their own guns and were able to purchase their uniforms. Others were mere farmboys, white trash country bumpkins who had to beg and borrow until they could be fully outfitted. Some of the poorer men were there on orders, paid by their financial betters to take their place on the battlefield.

Despite the lack of equipment, we had skill and we knew our territory. In every skirmish I was involved in, every mock battle I witnessed, there was nearly always somebody who knew the lay of the land. A trapper, a hunter, a marksman, it didn't matter what their skillset was. Whoever knew the area best would always step forward and share their knowledge. After the first few times I witnessed this, I always made a point of asking who knew the area we were in. I suppose this was one of the things my superiors noticed. I earned a promotion.

By the time I became an officer, the army was more organized. We were ready for anything. Most of the rank and file and even some of the officers were convinced we'd all be home by Christmas. Just a few more months and the war would be over. I wasn't as optimistic. We were hearing more news of battles in the North, territory and terrain we didn't know as well, land we weren't fighting to defend. The war was moving.

I thought then that it was terribly pointless. Blood and death and gangrene everywhere for no real reason. I was careful not to share these views with my men, of course. They liked me and respected me, though many of them were older than I was. Age didn't matter so much when you didn't know which bullet might have your name on it, which disease might rob you of your health. I followed orders. I didn't take risks.

When we learned of the Union's plans to attack us from the Gulf, I immediately mobilized my troops. Houston was my home and I would do all I could to prevent it from being taken. The days spent evacuating the women and children, shielding them from the coming danger, everything changed. I never saw her coming. 


	4. An Interlude

A/N: Remember everybody: reviews are love! The disclaimer in the summary also still applies. I own nothing. Sorry this chapter is so short. It felt right to me.

I remember that ride more clearly than any I'd taken before. The horse I'd had when I enlisted was long gone; since his death, for reasons I never tried to examine, I always tried to choose mounts of similar breed. For this ride, that had not been possible. The horse was little more than a nag, though its breeding was well concealed. At the moment, I hadn't cared, taking the reins offered to me and vanishing as soon as the civilians were delivered.

I rode through the night, keeping the reins loose. This was no flight for freedom; it was an endurance race. I kept my eyes open as much as possible. It's not easy to sleep in the saddle, but I was learning and these little naps were what kept me going. Still, the slightest noise was likely to wake me. There was a war on, after all. I had to keep on the lookout for Union soldiers. It was in this mindset, watching for my enemy to try and pick me off, that I saw them.

The girls were silhouetted beautifully against the moonlight, standing perfectly still. I dismounted to offer them my aid, as a gentleman should, and was stunned by their beauty. Two blondes, standing as if they were flanking the third, who was a head shorter than them. All three had the same chalky pallor, though the shortest of the three was clearly Mexican, and they were all watching me. When asked my name, I introduced myself automatically, all the while wondering if I was dreaming. Perhaps a musketball had hit me and knocked me from my horse and I was hallucinating this trio. They looked like angels, but there was something else, something I couldn't place that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Something was very wrong here.

I stood, first waiting to hear their problem and then rooted to the spot by fear. Their conversation made no sense, even as they praised me, saying I was right for what they needed. Before I knew it, Maria was behind me and all I knew was pain. 


	5. Welcome to the Army

I was burning, as if my every nerve had been swallowed by an instantaneous inferno. For what seemed an eternity, the pain was all I knew. When it finally faded, Maria was there to greet me. I saw her in more detail than ever before and she was truly beautiful. Before I could say a word, ask a question, Maria pulled me to my feet. It should have been impossible, small as she was, but she was strong. "Listen to me now, Jasper, for I will only say this once. I created you. You will serve me or be destroyed." Her words were more poisonus than the venom that had so recently transformed me. Stupidly, I nodded and she let me go, motioning that I should follow.

We left the small, dark cell I'd been laying in without my knowledge and moved down a narrow hall. Up ahead and on either side, all around us, I heard the sounds of combat, the dull thud as two solid obstacles met in one unyielding moment, the occassional scream of pain, and other sounds more animalistic than they should have been. Maria was unphased by this racket; she didn't so much as blink. "I have turned you into a vampire, Jasper," she announced bluntly with no introduction. "You are now better than you ever might have been as a human and you will live forever - as long as you obey."

"I'm a what?" I came to a stop. This had to be a hoax.

"Feel the strength in your limbs, Jasper. Look with your new eyes. Touch your skin. You must realize something has changed." This last sentence was delivered with a condescending little smirk that slowly sweetened. She reached back and pulled a hair pin out, sending black waves tumbling down her back. "Here." The gold pin was extended to me, its point sharper than was normal. I reached out, offering my palm, expecting her to drop it. Instead, she stabbed me - or might have, had I been human. Maria struck with all the speed of a viper, her sweet smile vanished. The pin glanced off my palm, as if it could not pierce my skin. Of course, this was precisely the case. When I cried out in shock, I found myself on the ground, Maria over me, her face two inches from mine. Her eyes were black.

"You listen to me now, Jasper Whitlock. You have become something more than you were, something amazing and powerful. You will never hunger or tire in this form. You will never age or sicken or find your self lacking in any physical way. You will join the rest of the troops, fight them, and prove to me that you were not a waste of time." She grabbed my hair and pulled, but it didn't hurt as it should've. I was frozen, shocked into absolute stillness as she leaned down and sank her teeth into the juncture of my neck and shoulder. It was the same place she'd bitten me to change me and the fresh venom made me scream. The bite burned and left a scar - this was her intention.

Though I was trembling, muscles spasming as my body tried to reject her venom, Maria hauled me back to my feet. "I'll leave," I tried, begging, wanting anything that might cause that pain to never come again. "I won't tell anyone a thing, I swear it. just let me go. You'll never see me again."

She was dragging me now, leaving me to fumble and stumble and beg in her wake. "You would die out there on your own, Jasper. Our kind can not live alone, not for anything. A vampire who lives alone may as well be human, for both will die." With these words, she had pulled me to a balcony high above the fighting. Below us, some six vampires, the impossible source of all the noise, were fighting with no pause. It was into this melee that Maria flung me. For only a minute, I was flying. For a minute, I was free...until hell reached up to claim me. 


	6. Moments of Shock

Renesmee's body was a reassuring weight on my arm as we walked through the trees, Alice holding my free hand. I could never keep still telling this story and I knew there were some dark things coming up. I would have to decide, soon, how much to change my story for Nessie, how much to edit. What could she handle? Alice's fingers tightened around mine. "Come back to us, Jas," she urged gently, kissing my cheek.

"I'm here," I managed a smile, wanting to reassure. Every time I had told this story, something had happened to pull me away, my past engulfing me in the form of my darkest memories. These moments hurt Alice as much as they hurt me. They changed my entire behavior. With any luck, any luck at all, it wouldn't happen this time. I had a feeling my luck was going to run out pretty fast.

"Alright, Renesmee, that was how Maria introduced me to my new life. Things didn't change much for years. I followed Maria's orders, I learned how to fight as she assembled her army. There were never any large numbers, the way a human might think. We didn't need them. Our numbers would rarely rise past twenty for the first few decades, even after I was in charge of training the newborns."

One day, following a skirmish we lost, Nettie approached me. She and Lucy both stood around 5'9" and had willowy frames. They'd spoken to me, of course, but rarely in any one on one situation. I straightened immediately, resisting the urge to kneel before my superior, as Maria expected anytime she approached. The words that fell past Nettie's lips confused me. "You lived near Houston, didn't you? When you were human?" I nodded, wondering what she was getting at. "What sort of training did they give you in the Confederate army?"

"Whatever we needed," I hedged. In truth, I was having trouble remembering much that had happened to me before that last ride as a mute and tired Paul Revere. "Did you need something?"

"I just thought we could talk," she shrugged. "Are you opposed to that, Major?"

"Not at all, ma'am." Nettie, Lucy, and Maria considered one another sisters, though I was sure each of the three had a very different idea of what that relationship entailed. Of the three, Lucy seemed to need the most guidance while Nettie appeared to have the ambition her counterpart lacked. Maria, of course, was the most dangerous of the three. Still, I was proceeding with caution.

"I must say, Major, I appreciate a Southern gentleman as much as the next Southern belle, but I never will understand you Texans." She followed me, watching as I knelt by one of the newborns and started re-assembling him. It took a moment before I rose to the bait she'd left dangling.

"Why is that, ma'am?"

"It seems you're either too polite, like now, or hell-bent on destroying everything around you, like I saw earlier," Nettie commented with a soft smile.

"If you object to my behavior so much, clearly you know what you prefer," I noted before sinking my teeth into the newborn's shoulder. Two swift bites on either side of the joint before I forced it into place, venom lubricating it.

"Work fast," she warned suddenly. "The sun's coming."

"I know." I could feel it just as well as she could. If the scattered pieces at my feet didn't get assembled in time, the newborn I was working on would burn with the dead.

Nettie examined the small fires I'd already set while pulling two pieces of flint from a hidden fold in her skirt. "I lived in Atlanta before Maria found me. It was a little ironic, the way it all worked out." The corners of her mouth turned up in a coy smile, sparks becoming flame near her hands. "When we met, I had just lost my home in a battle very much like this one. I had only been a vampire two years and I felt half mad. I was alone so often. Maria changed that, of course." Nettie's voice was worshipful. "When we returned to Mexico, we found that she had suffered the same fate. Her home, her lands, had fallen in her absence. We were both homeless and she was without a mate."

I balked. "Maria had a mate?" Whatever our leader wanted, she took from anyone she could. More than once, I had brought human males in to satisfy her, had seen troops go willingly to her bed. She had even approached me, though I'd been too shocked to accept or deny her. In the end, she'd left me to my own devices. Now, after all that, Nettie was standing here telling me that Maria had a mate?

"Yes." It was as if Nettie couldn't tell how many thoughts were pouring through my head. Take my word for it - when the conclusions are being drawn too fast for a vampire to keep up, you're acting on nothing but instinct. Though my mind was still trying to organize this new information and make it fit, I felt Nettie grab my arm. She was pulling us both to safety, away from the coming sunrise. Soon enough, the humans would wake. They would extinguish the flames and find nothing. Others would be blamed. We didn't care.

Though it was hardly painful, I felt it when Nettie pushed my back to a wall. She looked me in the eye, so similar to what Maria had done right after she changed me. "She won't say his name anymore, but she loved him - and if you ever breathe a word of this to her, I'll kill you myself." Nettie was speaking as my superior again. Whatever might have prompted her earlier friendliness, it was gone now. I could only obey.

Before I could promise what she asked, we both started. A newborn, one of our troops, had broken ranks. He ran, too fast, for the remaining fires we had left in our wake. We were both shouting commands at once, screaming for him to stop, ordering him to halt as we set off after him. I managed to grab his wrist, force him to turn. It was Michael, who I had changed myself only seven months ago. He lunged forward, forcing me to let go as his teeth grazed my brow. If I hadn't dodged, Michael would have removed my eye. I couldn't recover in time; I could only watch as Michael took one piece of burning tinder and deliberately touched it to the hem of his shirt.

He kept going, never looking away from where I lay on the ground. The fire smoldered into the cotton. Orange and yellow blossomed slowly back to life as the makeshift torch was guided to the hem of his pants, his hair, the opposite sleeve. A breeze came, feeding the flames, letting them build slowly towards an inferno. I couldn't look away as Michael raised the burning branch closer to his face and deliberately opened his mouth. 


	7. Orders and Voices

The image of Michael burning from inside out and outside in lingered in my mind, haunting me. I got into the habit of going off on my own while the newborns went to hunt. It was a dangerous move, leaving them alone like that. So many things could go wrong so easily, but I didn't want to be there if anything like that happened again. Things in the South had been difficult, sometimes unimaginable, but this was the first time I seriously battled depression.

I couldn't figure out why he had done it, why he had embraced death so completely that he could stand to burn like that. Until I saw it happen, I had never known it was possible for us to just burn. When Maria found me, I was watching the sun set and wrestling with these same questions. Though the dry wind carried her scent to me first, I didn't turn. Rather than the punishment I expected, my leader lowered herself to the ground beside me, cotton skirts billowing around her. That was when I looked up and saw the cigarette between her fingers. "Lucy tells me you didn't want to tend the fires." Skipping the pleasantries, Maria exhaled a cloud of smoke as she spoke.

"No, ma'am." I dropped my head and fell to examining the dirt. When she offered me her lit cigarette, I took it and made myself look away as she pulled out a fresh one. I put the thin paper and tightly rolled tobacco to my lips and inhaled deep, letting the smoke fill my dead lungs. There was a smell of sulpher - a fresh match struck on her diamond hard nail.

"What happened that's bothered you so?"

"It was Michael. He burned himself after the battle. He just set himself on fire and..." I swallowed, my fingers trembling as I remembered the yellow orange tongues licking away his clothes. "I just don't understand why." Another swallow, trying to get rid of the catch in my voice.

"He was alone, Jasper. Think about it. Did you ever see him talk with any of the other newborns? Interact with them when there wasn't a meal around? He never did. Michael was not made for this life. Some aren't. That doesn't mean you did anything wrong in selecting him. How could you have known?"

I shook my head; this wasn't guilt I was feeling. Yes, I had turned Michael, but I had not been responsible for his final death and I knew that. I was simply confused. I felt very like a newborn again - lost and drifting in a sea of rage, trying not to drown. This time, it felt like everything was trying to drown me, like every responsibility I had was too much.

As soon as she spoke, I knew Maria was right. Michael had never interacted with the others. He had been a loner and we, as vampires, had not been made to be alone. I'd seen it countless other times. Most of the humans who had been loners simply went mad when they awoke. Many of them had tried to attack me and, of course, been killed for their efforts. Death was nothing new, but Michael had chosen it rather than continue existing as a vampire. He had seemed so stable, so obedient, until the day of his death.

"Jasper, I want you to go away for a few days. Go hunting. Go explore. Anything you like. Return to us in a week, at the latest." Maria's voice was calm, a tone of authority and suggestion at the same time. She didn't look over until I bowed my head, baring my neck.

"It shall be as you order, senora."

"You will be off this compound and beyond the borders of our territory before midnight. Feed before you leave. I won't have you at risk by hunting on enemy ground." Now, she was the commander again, every inch a leader. I nodded and got to my feet, ready to run. "One week, Jasper. No longer."

"Si, senora." She dismissed me with a wave. I didn't look back.

Though I didn't need to hunt and wasn't terribly thirsty, I followed my orders and got a quick meal on the edges of our territory. After that, I ran for an entire day, not caring about the sun. It was a risk and a foolish one, but for the moment I was free. This was the first time Maria had sent me off on my own with no orders except my return. I was on no mission, seeking no food or potential troops. I could go where I pleased. By the end of the night, I found an abandoned shack to claim until dusk returned. I hadn't even bothered to learn where I was.

After a few hours of rest, I grew restless, sunshine be damned, so I took off my pack and pulled out my props. Gloves to cover my hands, a wide brimmed hat, and I was ready. Most humans wouldn't look twice at me as long as I kept out of the sunlight. Taking to the streets, I blended easily into the crowd along the docks and listened to the voices around me. Everything mixed and blended together, Mexican voices fast and stacatto supported by the steady drawl of Texan voices. Amongst all this, I heard another voice, slower and lazier with an accent I couldn't place. Something about it drew me in, the cadence lazy as the drawl. It made me think of shuffling playing cards and flat palms slammed on tables. I moved closer.

There, talking as fast as his drawl would allow, was a blond human. He looked about eighteen or nineteen and ragged, but his smile looked confidant and friendly, like he knew he was in the wrong place, somewhere he didn't fit in at all, and didn't care a whit about that. This child seemed determined to make himself fit in, to make the people around him accept who he was and what he had to offer. I don't know why, but I walked over and offered my gloved hand. "Good afternoon, sir. My name is Jasper Whitlock and I'd like to hear what brings you to these parts."


	8. Strange Charm

A/N: The characters of Jasper and Peter still belong to Stephanie Meyer. Everything added/expanded within Peter's history, character, etc.  
>including the events of this chapter are my own intellectualy property. Thank you, Stephanie, for providing such an interesting playground.<p>

"I didn't want to be married, didn't want to stay at home. My feet brought me here." The young human's sluggish drawl was growing on me, a soft  
>music all its own as we sat at a too small table in a half empty bar. In front of us sat two bottles of beer - the stuff smelled absolutely rancid to me,<br>but I'd forced down a few swigs. Now, there was no further need because the stranger was finally talking and paying less attention to my actions.

He had been nervous when I led us to this random dive bar, but I paid scant attention. After all, I was a vampire. What did I have to fear? When  
>we walked in, I felt fear from my companion and carefully replaced it with feelings of calm. After all, the shadier characters in this building had more<br>to fear from me than we did from them. Even after the young man relaxed and told me his story, I couldn't pinpoint what about this human was so  
>fascinating to me. I only knew that I would allow no harm to come to him for as long as I could help it. The best way to ensure that, it seemed, was<br>to get this boy out of Mexico.

"You just came for no reason? Just to get away," I asked, fingers curling around the glass bottle and dispelling the condensation gathered along its  
>length. The roughly made edge grated against the table, sliding closer to me. Already, the boy was on his third drink, though it didn't seem to be<br>affecting him physically - yet.

"Damn straight, I did. I had to get out of there, someplace with more coast line, more opportunities. You know there's no sort of cheap shipping  
>anywhere between the US and Mexico?" His words were coming faster now, the idea exciting him for reasons I couldn't fathom.<p>

"I don't know and I don't particularly care." My voice was harsher than I wanted it to be, but the images in my head were dark. If this human  
>succeeded in his business endeavor, he would be going up against numerous established companies, illegal vendors, and worse. "Listen -" I paused,<br>at a loss.

"Peter," he supplied.

"Listen, Peter, you aren't from Mexico. You don't know any of the people or any of the businesses. It's too damned easy for someone to cross the  
>wrong person and end up paying the price." What in God's name was I saying?<p>

"I may not know the people, but I know business. I can do this." Peter's blue eyes were shining with confidence as he spoke, launching into talk of  
>shippings and supplies and all the rest. It seemed he'd been thinking about this for years and I happened to be the unlucky soul who gave voice to<br>the whole thing. I was still thrown when he rose, excited, and crossed to the door. When he returned with a newspaper, I glimpsed the date: March  
>29, 1934.<p>

Though the paper was written entirely in Spanish, Peter knew what he was looking for. He opened straight to the advertisments and waved his  
>hand, offering the evidence. "There's no mention at all of any shipping businesses at all because nobody wants to bother with crossing the border.<br>That's where the money is and where the goods are needed, so why not get it started?" Again, I stared. This human looked barely twenty, filled  
>with all the exuberance and foolishness of youth. I could almost imagine Peter as one of the poor Confederate soldiers, whooping with joy at the<br>chance to ride a borrowed horse and fight Yankee invaders.

I can't imagine the expression that was on my face as these human memories roiled up inside me. Whatever Peter saw there worried him and his  
>emotions distracted me. "Peter, you don't belong here. Truly you don't." I felt like my dead lungs couldn't pull in enough air. What was this hold he<br>seemed to have on me? Why did I care? Why did he matter?

"I can handle myself. You don't need to fret over me, Jasper."

"It's not about that," I objected. "Where are you from anyway?"

"Louisiana." Creole, of course. I'd only heard such accents once or twice in my human years, which explained why I hadn't placed his. "It's not  
>about where I'm from or who I know, Jasper. I can speak Spanish plenty well and I know how to negotiate. Hell, you offer the right person a fair<br>price and they'll come back every time." His smile sent a shot of ice straight through my heart.

"I don't care if you can sell dirt to a farmer, Peter, just believe me. You won't be safe here."

"Why do you care?"

Whatever spell had so drastically changed my way of thinking, it clearly had a hold of Peter as well. We were sitting shoulder to shoulder now and  
>he shivered at times when my icy breath came too close. I made myself slide away and got to my feet, turning my back on him. When I felt a hand<br>on my arm, I turned with all the speed of a viper. "Get out of Mexico or I'll kill you myself," I vowed, looking into his eyes. As he froze, I worked  
>my art, adrenaline flowing through his system, urging him to run. Soon enough, he bolted from the bar. The confused humans looked around,<br>casually questioning his actions as I melted into the shadows. To them, I was invisible.


End file.
